


The Approaching Night

by Aneiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ballet Dancer Harry, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Dancer Harry Potter, Family Issues, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pianist Draco Malfoy, Unsupportive family, please read the beginning notes for more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: The grand piano stood to one side on the stage, black and shining under the dim lights, and seated before it was a lithe young man with a shock of white blond hair. His fingers danced effortlessly over the keys, his eyes closed, a haunting melody drifting through the air.Harry recognised him straight away, of course.Draco Malfoy was one of the best pianists in the world. A prodigy at both performing and composing, the Royal London Ballet were beyond lucky to have secured him for the season.Harry hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. But now, while they were both here in the evening, both there to be alone, he leaned against the doorframe and just watched and listened.As the piece came to an end, Draco’s eyes opened and instinctively he looked up, locking eyes with Harry.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 124





	The Approaching Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Duddlydu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duddlydu/gifts).



> This, my first ever Drarry, is a gift to my wonderful friend Debo for all of your support and beta work! One good thing about the pandemic was getting to know you and chatting so much about fandom and life and everything in between - thank you for being there for me, and I really hope you enjoy this fic xx
> 
> Before reading this please just be aware that there is discussion of a character hiding his sexuality, and being forced by his family to present a het appearance to the world and to marry a woman - if this sounds like it might trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable, please don't read <3

Usually Harry Potter was the last one to leave every evening. 

The practice with the other dancers would finish, and he and Ginny, his prima ballerina, would rehearse for another hour together. She’d then shower and leave, usually hand in hand with her girlfriend Cho. 

Harry would always stay a little longer, savouring the silence of the empty dancehall in the evening, often warming down or doing some gentle stretches. Once in a while he’d train hard, alone, pushing his body further than usual, finishing up with hard muscles and heavy breathing and sweat drenching his workout clothes. 

Tonight had been one such night. Workout finished, Harry walked over to the sound system, a towel thrown over his shoulders, drinking gratefully from a water bottle, and turned off the music he’d been practicing to.

Harry frowned. The hall had not been thrown into the silence he’d been expecting. He could hear an echo of music, a hint of piano from beyond the practice room. Towelling down his soaking hair as he went, Harry walked down the hall and peered into the auditorium. 

The grand piano stood to one side on the stage, black and shining under the dim lights, and seated before it was a lithe young man with a shock of white blond hair. His fingers danced effortlessly over the keys, his eyes closed, a haunting melody drifting through the air.

Harry recognised him straight away, of course. 

Draco Malfoy was one of the best pianists in the world. A prodigy at both performing and composing, the Royal London Ballet were beyond lucky to have secured him for the season. 

Harry hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. But now, while they were both here in the evening, both there to be alone, he leaned against the doorframe and just watched and listened. 

As the piece came to an end, Draco’s eyes opened and instinctively he looked up, locking eyes with Harry.

Even from a distance, Harry could tell that Draco’s eyes were silver, like mercury.

Harry pushed himself off the frame, walking awkwardly over to Draco. ‘Draco Malfoy, right?’ Harry held out his hand, hesitating slightly when he realised his palm was still damp from practice. He almost pulled away again but Draco had already stood up from his stool and reached out and took it, shaking it firmly. ‘I’m Harry Potter, I’m one of the dancers - ’

Draco interrupted him with a small smile.

‘I know who you are,’ he said, sitting back down at the piano and letting his fingers run absent-mindedly over the keys. ‘You’re the first soloist here, and one of the best dancers in the world. I actually saw you perform in Moscow last year.’

Harry grinned, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Yeah?’ he asked, struck suddenly shy. 

Draco’s fingers were long and elegant, caressing the black and white keys of the polished Steinway, and his forearms were lightly muscled. Harry could see a silver signet ring flash on one finger, and he remembered Draco came from an aristocratic family, his father a member of the House of Lords. 

Draco nodded and continued. ‘I maintain that it was one of the best performances of _Romeo and Juliet_ ever given. You and Ginevra are excellent partners.’

Harry felt himself blush slightly under the praise. He was used to people telling him he was an excellent dancer, but rarely did the praise come from someone as effortlessly elegant and handsome as Draco Malfoy was proving to be. 

Harry nodded at the piano, changing the subject. ‘What was that you were playing? It was beautiful.’

‘It’s a piece called _The Approaching Night_ ,’ Draco said, playing a small sequence quietly as he did. ‘It’s one of my favourites. I usually only play it for myself…’ he trailed off, his silver eyes locking onto Harry’s.

‘Oh, god, I’m sorry - ’ Harry stumbled for words. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude, usually it’s only me here this late and I didn’t know - ’ he cut off when he realised Draco was smiling at him. 

‘It’s okay, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘We’ll be working together a lot over the coming season. It’s good to meet you.’

Harry nodded and Draco stood from his stool, grabbing his coat and bag from behind him. He was a little taller than Harry, although he was slighter. Draco nodded in the vague direction of the entrance. 

‘Are you heading out?’ 

‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ Harry agreed. ‘I just need to grab my stuff from the dance hall.’ 

They walked together in silence down the corridor, and Draco waited while Harry pulled on a thin jumper and a pair of joggers over his workout clothes. Harry was always careful not to catch a chill after practice, even though the late summer nights were still quite mild. 

When they reached the entrance, they quickly realised they lived in different directions, and Harry walked off along the lamp-lit street, only once turning back to watch Draco walk off in the opposite direction.

A few days later, as Harry and Ginny and some of the other dancers had finished their practice and were grabbing their belongings and heading to the pub, Harry heard the gentle cadence of the piano floating down the hallway once more. Ginny caught him looking dazedly in the direction of the music, and she gave him a knowing smile.

‘Go and invite him! It would be nice for him to know a few people before rehearsals start properly next week.’

Harry didn’t need telling twice. He hurried off to the auditorium as the others headed off to the pub to grab them a table. Draco was reluctant at first, claiming the need to stay and practice.

‘Draco,’ Harry said easily as he picked up his bag and coat, holding them out for him. ‘You’ve been practising all day. Come and meet some of the others, unwind for a bit.’

Draco’s silver eyes softened and he bit his lower lip as a reluctant smile curved there. Harry couldn’t help but stare, wondering what it would taste like, if he were to lick the spot Draco had bitten. 

‘Harry?’ Draco looked at him in concern as he took his belongings from him. 

Harry mentally shook himself and laughed awkwardly, leading them out of the hall. 

It was only a five minute walk to the pub, a small, grungy place called the Leaky Cauldron that was tucked into one of London’s many side streets. It was almost impossible to find unless you’d been there before. 

As usual, it was already busy inside, but Harry could see his friends had already claimed a table near the back. Tom the landlord was already bringing a bottle of red wine and some tumblers of whisky to the table. 

Harry led Draco through the bustling crowd, but before they got to the table he saw a blur of crazy black curls and grunted as something collided with him. 

Not something: someone. 

Arms wrapped around him and he laughed as he hugged his best friend.

‘Draco,’ Harry called over his friend’s shoulder. ‘This is…’

‘Hermione Granger!’ Draco finished his sentence in delight, and Hermione unhooked her arms from Harry and leapt towards Draco, enveloping him in a hug.

‘Draco!’ she squealed. ‘I was wondering when I’d get to see you!’

They broke apart, both with smiles on their faces, and Harry felt an unwelcome twinge of jealousy in the pit of his belly.

‘You two know each other, then,’ he said, trying not to sound put out.

‘Of course,’ said Hermione with a pleased laugh.

‘We studied together at the Viennese conservatoire for a while,’ Draco finished. 

It made sense they knew each other. 

Hermione was a prodigy in her own right, a superb violinist and concertmaster for the orchestra that worked with the ballet. Her headline concerts sold out consistently; her fiery and passionate performances the stuff of legend. 

Harry ushered all three of them over to the table and introduced Draco to the rest of the group. 

There was his dance partner Ginny, filling up Cho’s wine glass and giving her a gentle kiss on the temple. Cho was another musician, playing French horn in the orchestra. 

There were two other dancers: Viktor Krum, darling of the Sofia Ballet, and Cormac McLaggen, who’d studied with Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts School for Music and Dance. They sat next to each other, Cormac with his arm slung around Viktor, and Hermione sat herself down on the other side of Viktor, dropping a kiss on Cormac’s hand where it lay on Viktor’s shoulder before resting her hand on Viktor’s thigh. 

Draco and Harry took seats next to each other and Tom brought two more wine glasses to the table. When both Harry and Draco reached for the bottle at the same time, their fingertips brushing, Harry was very aware that they were the only single people at the table. Draco fixed Harry with a smile and picked up the bottle, pouring the red wine into Harry’s glass first. 

The evening went by in a bit of a blur, which was not entirely the fault of the free-flowing wine and whisky. Every time Draco moved and his knee accidentally knocked against Harry’s, or his fingers brushed against him when he reached for the bottle, or even just when Draco would look at him with those silvery, silent eyes, Harry felt himself come a little bit more undone inside. More than once he caught Hermione watching the two of them, a curious look on her face. 

Eventually Tom called last orders, the wine was finished, and the group left the Leaky Cauldron, laughing and leaning on each other as they spilled into the night to flag down taxis. 

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy. 

Draco slung an easy arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry felt himself lean comfortably into him. It was just the drink, he almost convinced himself, as Draco’s arm pulled him closer. 

Ginny and Cho had already stumbled away up the street, their flat closer than a tube ride home, and Hermione, Cormac and Viktor were tumbling into the first taxi. They waved goodbye cheerfully, and Draco leaned his head closer to Harry’s. 

‘I could go for one more drink. What do you say?’

Harry was torn. On the one hand, he usually limited his drinking, especially this close to season start with the intense training sessions he was doing on a daily basis. On the other hand, there was nothing he wanted more right now than to huddle up with Draco Malfoy in a dark corner somewhere. 

As if reading Harry’s mind, Draco smiled and nodded towards a side street. 

‘I know a good little all-night coffee shop about ten minutes away, if a hot chocolate is more on the cards?’ 

Harry laughed despite himself, and nodded gratefully. ‘I’ll already be regretting that last glass of whisky at training tomorrow,’ he said as he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and followed Draco down the street. 

When they reached the coffee shop, gently lit with candles and fairy lights and humming with the low murmur of lovers talking with heads close together in corners, Draco gave Harry a gentle nudge towards an empty table in the corner and headed to the counter to order them both a hot chocolate.

They talked for another hour, hands clasped around warm mugs, about anything and everything. By the time Harry could no longer stifle his yawns and Draco insisted on taking him home, it was well past 2am. Harry’s flat was in walking distance, and Draco walked the route with him, saying he’d take a taxi from there. 

The soft orange glow of the streetlights illuminated the tarmac at their feet as they walked side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders together as they did. When they finally reached Harry’s flat, he turned to face Draco, shuffling awkwardly. 

‘Erm,’ Harry started, then mentally kicked himself for his lack of eloquence. 

He raised his eyes to meet Draco’s, finding him watching Harry with the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. Deciding to throw his words and caution to the wind, Harry stumbled forward and met Draco’s lips with his own. 

Draco was frozen for a second before his mouth softened beneath Harry’s, and Harry felt himself shiver from head to toe. 

Draco’s hands reached for Harry’s waist. As they tangled in his jumper, Harry leaned closer to him, letting himself be engulfed by the warmth of his body. Harry nudged against Draco’s face, willing him to open his mouth to him, when suddenly all the warmth disappeared. 

Harry’s eyes flew open, blinking owlishly in surprise. Draco had pulled away and taken a step backwards, his grey eyes wide and alarmed. 

_Fuck_. Harry felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly. Had he misjudged this, misjudged Draco? 

The warmth and friendliness that had built easily between them all evening was gone, replaced instead by a cold front. Draco’s eyes turned glittery and hard like granite. 

‘I – I should go,’ Draco said now, his voice stilted. 

Harry nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. 

Draco opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but snapped it shut again before speaking. He spun on his heel and marched away, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

Harry watched him walk away until he turned the corner at the end of Harry’s street. 

Draco never once looked back. 

* * *

Draco kept a polite but careful distance from Harry after their kiss under the stars. Opening night came, and was a resounding success. Harry and Ginny danced their hearts out, and Draco played flawlessly along with the rest of the orchestra. 

Draco wandered into the dance hall afterwards, tired but satisfied, and saw Harry and Ginny laughing and joking as they warmed down. He ached to go and speak with Harry, to pull him aside and explain everything, but just as Harry looked up and met his eyes, Draco’s father appeared at his elbow. 

‘Draco, aren’t you done yet?’ His father was not renowned for his patience. 

Draco sighed unhappily as Harry’s eyes drifted over to his father, knowing it would be unforgivably rude not to introduce them now. 

‘Father,’ Draco said, his voice as stiff as his spine. ‘This is Ginevra Weasley, prima ballerina, and Harry James Potter, _premier danseur_.’ Draco’s French accent was flawless, the product of lessons forced upon him since he was a child.

His father gave Harry and Ginny a cold nod. 

‘Harry, Ginny, this is my father, Lord Lucius Malfoy.’

Lucius offered Harry his hand which he accepted wordlessly, and then bowed to Ginny and kissed her hand delicately.

‘Enchantée,’ Lucius said with a smile like a shark. He turned to Draco. Draco kept his gaze downturned, not wanting to meet his father’s eyes. ‘Come now, Draco. I’ve booked us dinner at the Dorchester, Astoria will be meeting us there.’

Without looking to see whether Draco was following, Lucius swept out of the room. Draco’s eyes lingered on Harry for a few moments before he followed his father at a slower pace. 

Harry watched them go and Ginny rested her hand on his arm.

‘Harry?’ she said quietly, as he turned towards her in a daze. ‘You okay?’

He nodded distractedly and she gave him a knowing look. 

‘Come on,’ she said in a no-nonsense voice, curling her grip around Harry’s forearm and walking off into the direction of the changing rooms. 

‘Ginny, what - ,’ Harry’s question was cut off by Ginny’s voice ringing out across the dance hall.

‘Cormac! Viktor!’ 

Heads popped out of the changing rooms, Viktor with a towel over his shoulders, clearly fresh from the shower. 

‘Hurry up and get ready,’ Ginny ordered them. ‘We’re taking Harry out.’

Draco finished practice a little earlier than usual later that week. 

He knew Harry would still be here, he was always the only other person here this late in the evening. 

It had been weeks since opening night, and Draco didn’t think he had the strength to stay away from Harry any more. They had never stopped with the fleeting glances, smouldering looks across the stage, awkward brushes of knees under tables when they all went out for dinner together.

Draco wandered now over to the dancehall, and sure enough, when he peered around the door, Harry was there. Draco pushed the door open and walked in, Harry looking up from where he was balancing on a wobble board. 

Draco came to a stop, blinking in surprise. Harry was holding a steady arabesque as the board wobbled beneath his feet.

‘Fuck, Harry,’ Draco laughed. ‘You must have abs of steel.’ 

Harry smirked and pulled up the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach, all while still balancing on one leg. A flash of hard, solid muscle rippling under tanned skin rendered Draco momentarily speechless.

‘All about that core stability, mate,’ Harry said with a laugh, letting his shirt drop again. Draco blinked, dazedly, and looked back up at Harry’s face. ‘Have you finished for the evening?’ Harry continued, and Draco nodded. Harry dropped his leg and jumped off the wobble board. ‘You want to grab some dinner?’ he asked, his voice a little cautious, as if expecting Draco to say no.

‘Umm,’ Draco turned and watched as Harry grabbed his towel and mopped the sweat from his brow. 

He caught Draco watching and smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘You want me to take a quick shower first?’ he asked. 

‘What? No!’ Draco shook himself out of his stupor. ‘No, of course not. We just won’t go anywhere we might accidentally bump into any minor royals.’

Harry flicked his towel at him and Draco laughed and batted it away. 

They ended up at a burger bar a short way away, squirrelled away in a corner booth. Draco laughed as Harry ordered enough food for four people between the two of them.

‘What?’ Harry asked as he grabbed a handful of onion rings.

‘I get the carb loading idea,’ Draco replied in measured tones, helping himself to an onion ring and dipping it delicately in the garlic mayonnaise. ‘But surely it should be good quality carbs?’ He arched his eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

‘Hey, _you_ brought me here,’ Harry laughed. ‘Is this where you take all your first dates?’ he added in a teasing voice.

Draco felt himself blush slightly at Harry’s words, but was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of three burgers and a platter of more side dishes.

When the waiter disappeared, leaving them alone with enough carbs to fuel a small army, Harry reached over to briefly tap Draco’s arm with his fingers.

‘Hey,’ he said, his voice low and kind. ‘I’m really sorry for what happened… _that_ night. I was drunk and I misread the signs, but I like you, and I really want us still to be friends. I hope we can be?’

For a moment Draco was silent, as he considered whether he really wanted to have this conversation, here, now, in the middle of a burger restaurant. Harry didn’t say anything, just reached for another onion ring. He dipped it in some ketchup but didn’t eat it.

‘I’m dating Astoria Greengrass,’ Draco announced in a rush of words. Harry looked up sharply, his emerald eyes wide.

‘The debutante?’ he managed, and Draco nodded. 

‘Our families are very keen on the match,’ he said, trying to keep his voice casual, unemotional. 

‘I see,’ Harry replied, suddenly very fixated on his onion ring. 

Draco sighed sadly. How he wished he could be having a different conversation. ‘If you’re alright with that, then I suppose we can be friends,’ Draco finished.

Harry nodded slowly, and finally lifted his gaze back to Draco. His expression was sad but understanding, and it hurt Draco’s heart to see. 

‘I’d like that,’ Harry said quietly, and he ate the neglected onion ring. 

They finished the rest of their food in near silence, the comfortable camaraderie that defined their early friendship all but gone. When they were finished and they walked along the street together, Draco couldn’t help a deep sigh escape him. Not for the first time, he wished his life were on a different trajectory to one he had planned.

Well, the one his father had planned for him. 

When they reached the corner of the street where they needed to head in opposite directions, they both came to a halt, turning to face each other.

For a heartbeat they just stared at each other. Harry had thrown on an old red sweatshirt with the word _Gryffindor_ and a roaring lion head printed on it, and his hair was still messy from practice. Draco ached to run his fingers through it.

Harry leaned in, so close that their lips almost brushed, so close that Draco fancied he could feel Harry’s eyelashes flutter against his face. 

For a moment he was engulfed in Harry’s presence, enveloped in the comforting scent of him, the warmth from his body, the very gravitational pull of his orbit. It would be so easy to close his eyes and fall into him. Harry’s nose brushed against Draco’s cheekbone. 

Draco screwed his eyes up tight and took a deep breath, stepping backwards. Purposeful. 

‘Don’t,’ Draco said, a simple word, but one that pained him to speak. He schooled his features into their usual blank countenance, opening his eyes. Harry looked back at him, biting his lip as if stopping himself from protesting. Draco shook his head. ‘Don’t,’ he repeated, more firmly this time. 

Harry didn’t reply, his green eyes pained, and Draco turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

They returned to their uneasy truce, trying their best to steer clear of any awkward interactions. Practices and performances went well enough, and the media raved over the perfect trio of Potter and Weasley dancing and Malfoy on piano. In their downtime, they hung out occasionally, usually in a big group of dancers and musicians, 

This evening, while Draco was staying late to practice once again, Harry sought him out. 

Draco didn’t stop playing when he saw Harry approach. He’d obviously come from practice himself, his hair damp with sweat, his workout shirt sticking to his skin. Draco tried not to stare at the line of muscle on his stomach, visible through the material, gulping when Harry pulled a sweatshirt down over his head. Harry sat, uninvited, next to Draco.

‘I saw you were out with Astoria again the other night,’ Harry said, a bite of bitterness in his voice. 

‘Harry,’ Draco stopped playing, pinning him in place with his silver eyes. ‘You do know I’m gay, right?’

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bench next to Draco. ‘I - .’ He paused. 

Draco sighed. Harry must have been confused, with their kiss and _almost_ kiss, when he knew full well Draco and Astoria were on the cusp of an engagement. But even if it couldn’t change anything between them, Draco wanted Harry to know the truth.

Draco didn’t want to hide away, not completely. At least with Harry he could be honest. He looked away, down at the black and white keys of the piano.

‘My parents made me choose.’ Draco’s voice was low, almost a whisper, and he punctuated it with a press down on a mournful minor key. 

Harry waited, his breath shallow.

‘They could handle me being gay, or having a career in the arts. Not both. Told me they’d support one if – if I gave up the other.’ Draco’s fingers moved down the scale, the minor keys haunting in their song. ‘Father always wanted me to go into politics.’

Harry’s hand twitched and he moved, laying it gently over Draco’s right hand.

‘Draco,’ he started then stopped, at a loss. ‘You can’t just give up who you are.’

Draco pulled both of his hands away, placing them carefully in his lap. The piano echoed unhappily and then fell silent. 

‘How can I lose my family, Harry?’ he asked, his voice pained, staring down at his hands. ‘This is the best thing for both me and Astoria. She knows everything, this way I can carry on playing piano and she can get her PhD without a conservative husband forcing her to quit her career and have kids.’

‘And you? You’ll what? Spend a life without love? How can you do that, Draco?’

Harry’s voice started to rise and Draco could hear the indignant anger welling up in him. He understood. Draco was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He was supposed to fight, stubbornly, for the things he wanted.

Instead Draco stood and closed the piano lid without any of his usual gentleness. 

‘You don’t understand, Harry,’ he said bluntly, his jaw tense and his hands curling into fists. 

Harry leapt to his own feet, and Draco could practically see him bristling like an angry cat. ‘No, _you_ don’t understand,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t have to do this to yourself, live half a life because your _father_ tells you to.’

Draco felt his heart splinter. 

‘Harry-’ he tried, but Harry shook his head and interrupted him.

‘No. I won’t wait for you forever, Malfoy,’ Harry said bitterly, his green eyes flashing. Draco winced at the use of his surname.

Only when Harry was angry did he call him Malfoy. 

Draco ached to reach out and touch him, but he stiffened his arms, ignoring the impulse. 

‘I _can’t_ wait forever,’ Harry added, his voice softer. He looked like he was going to say more, went as far as opening his mouth, but then he sighed and shook his head. 

He gave Draco one last, sad look, his shoulders dropping, and he shifted his weight as if he were about to walk off.

Draco acted without even thinking. 

It was like he’d been in some kind of full-body bind, under a spell that had been trapping him in place, and suddenly he was free. 

His arms reached out, grabbing Harry’s shoulders and pulling him in close. Draco only had a split second to register the shock on Harry’s face before he crashed into him, Draco’s mouth on Harry’s, Draco’s hands desperately reaching for Harry’s hair, the back of his neck, anything to hold him in place and not let him escape. 

But then, it had never been Harry who wanted to escape. 

He let Draco cling to him, opened his mouth beneath his, let him press his body against him. 

He tasted incredible, spearmint and heat and something just utterly _himself_ , and Draco shifted his body closer, aching to touch every inch of Harry he could. As if mirroring his own thoughts, Harry’s hands curled into the soft wool of Draco’s jumper, working their way beneath until they stroked the bare skin of Draco’s hip. Draco drew in a shaky breath against Harry’s lips, and Harry gently nipped his lower lip before pulling away.

Draco was sure his own eyes were the same as Harry’s, glittering and intense and almost completely black with dilated pupils. He clung to Harry, to the hard muscles and the comforting scent of his sweat and the warmth of his body. Harry pulled back just far enough to run a gentle hand up Draco’s neck, cradling his jaw.

‘Draco?’ he whispered, a question and a prayer all at once. 

‘Will you still want to be with me when I’m disowned?’ Draco whispered, brokenly, even as Harry’s gentle fingers stroked his cheek. ‘When my father vilifies me to the media and my anxiety spikes? When my only outlet is music and you?’

Harry’s eyes were hard, but with love and determination. His gaze, his arms, his hand on Draco’s jaw, all made Draco feel safe; protected. 

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone. 

‘I will stand by you through it all, Draco,’ Harry whispered furiously. ‘And love you all the more furiously through it.’ And with that he leaned forward to capture Draco’s lips with his own once again. 

To Draco, the taste of Harry already felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and theme of this fic was inspired by Philip Wesley's song '[The Approaching Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsTQjB1f4-A)', and it was listened to on repeat as I came up with the outline of this piece. It's a beautiful piece of music and I urge you all to go and give it a listen!


End file.
